


Looking a Gift Wolf in the Mouth

by sludgebomb



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Drunk Sex, Dry Humping, Emetophilia, First Time, Gagging On Fingers, M/M, Older reader, Young Lambert (The Witcher), at least older than lambert, drool, slight Manipulation, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27278884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sludgebomb/pseuds/sludgebomb
Summary: Lambert looks out of place, trying not to jump when a barmaid brushes past him. Blush is playing over his cheeks and his amber eyes are wide in a way that projects much more innocence than one would ever expect from a witcher. It’s an impossible opportunity to pass up, really.
Relationships: Lambert (The Witcher)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	Looking a Gift Wolf in the Mouth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhatICantShowYou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatICantShowYou/gifts).



> This is slimy, pun intended. Heed the tags.

Lambert was in a bit of a predicament. At eighteen and new to the Path he was feeling lonely and, to be frank, miserable. Fall was coming, the leaves beginning to crisp on their branches, and he was going to have to go back to Kaer Morhen just as untouched as when he left. Lambert will be the first to admit he wasn’t out to make friends at the keep when he arrived. He was so angry and confused by his lot in life that  _ of course _ he lashed out. The only problem was, as his group entered adolescence and was sneaking into each other’s bunks at night, his surly attitude meant no one wanted anything to do with him. He figured he would get his when he got out in the world, but as he met so many people for the first time, they all turned him down! Gorgeous human women, elven men, and even a dwarf or two all snubbed their noses at him. He was too young, or too poor, or simply just a freak to them. Now, it was almost time to head back, and everyone would  _ know _ he didn’t get any action. 

Ironically, it was a very mundane issue to have. And Lambert hated it.

He wandered into a tavern on a packed night, trying to drum up business (and perhaps a lay, though he couldn't think about that without getting a little stiff) when you spot him. He’s so fucking cute; lean and lanky with sinewy muscle, scruff growing in just lightly on his chin. Lambert looks out of place, trying not to jump when a barmaid brushes past him. Blush is playing over his cheeks and his amber eyes are wide in a way that projects much more innocence than one would ever expect from a witcher. It’s an impossible opportunity to pass up, really. He catches your eye for a moment, jutting out his chin in an attempt at confidence and you smirk, waving him over.

He sits across from you at your table like you were going to pull the seat out from under him, eyes flicking to your face, your hands, and back to your face. The witcher must like what he sees because he stays and introduces himself. You order him a drink, just ale to start, and start asking him questions about being a witcher. He’s suspicious, not usually one for small talk, but slowly he responds. It’s clear that one has ever paid attention to Lambert of their own free will because he immediately acts smitten, resting his chin on one fist while drinking his ale with the other. He loosens up, answers getting longer and longer as you prod him. Maybe you were interested, maybe you were just trying to distract him so he didn’t notice how much he was drinking. Either way, the pup was drunk soon enough, flushed and unable to stop staring at your lips as you talked to him. 

After he drains yet another tankard, you asked Lambert if he wanted to come upstairs with you. He nodded so eagerly he might snap his neck, following you on legs that wobbled more from nerves than alcohol.

You sat casually in a chair once in your room while Lambert looked very vulnerable, fidgeting with a buckle on his jacket before you told him to take it off. He does, dropping it to the floor. You pull him onto your lap, his legs splayed over your lap as you kiss him. He’s inexperienced, sure, but he clearly has a desire to please, allowing you to take the lead and guide the pace. He’s hard almost before you even get your tongue into his mouth and  _ gods, _ it’s more arousing than it should be. By the time you run your hands along Lambert’s sides, he’s making the cutest little whines in the back of his throat and trying not to rut against your thigh. You can feel how hot he is, how he’s so hard it must hurt being trapped in his trousers. You smile into the kiss as you bounce the leg that is pressed against his cock, and he moans into your mouth at the extra pressure. He starts to squirm, pawing at your clothes trying to get more skin contact. You grab his hands and lace your fingers together, keeping him still.

He pulls away from the kiss, a pout on his swollen lips. "Arent you going to fuck me?"

Maybe it’s mean, but you put on a doubtful look like you weren’t planning on ploughing him, like you’d be fine leaving him like this. His face falls, looking so put out even as he’s still squirming in your lap. You tell him you can be convinced, and he lights up in a way that tells you exactly what lengths he’ll go to. Lambert wants to be wanted, it’s even more clear now that the alcohol has done its job of removing his defensive attitude. 

You tell Lambert that if he wants your cock, he has to show you he wants it. His eyes go wide, “Yeah, yeah I want it.” he says, voice cracking and unmistakably earnest. Ready to beg and you hadn’t even told him too, this young witcher is a real treat. 

You bring one hand still laced with his up to his mouth, tracing along his plush lower lip with your index finger. His tongue darts out to lap over your fingertip, and you reward him with another bounce of your leg. Lambert practically keens, pressing his weight into you more fully, trying to get as much contact out of the simple action as he can. You tell him if he wants your cock, that he needs to get himself off first against your thigh. He could take all the pleasure he wanted, but only if he was choking on your fingers while he did so. The kid sputters, bright red from the idea of something so embarrassing. You raise an eyebrow and wait for his answer, giving him every impression that you would dump him off your lap if he said no. After a moment, he nods.

It’s easy at first, the slide of two of your fingers over his tongue, your other hand holding his hips still. His mouth is  _ hot,  _ and his tongue suckles the digits almost as if on instinct. You debate abandoning this idea in favor of fucking his mouth, certain that he would be an excellent cocksucker, but there would be time for that later. When you sink your fingers in as far as they can go, hitting the back of his throat, he tries to brave it; getting in a few tiny thrusts against your leg before he pulls back, gasping. Thick saliva trails from your fingers to his chin, his face pink and eyes shining. He looks so sinful you can’t help but groan.

That really seems to encourage Lambert, and he sinks his mouth down again over the fingers, this time rushing to get them down so he can hump against your thigh. You tilt your hips up so you can get some friction yourself, the unsteady rhythm too good to resist. It takes effort, but you pull back when he does, gagging and panting for breath as he does so. 

Lambert works himself into a frenzy quickly, he would get close to coming when grinding against you, but his gag reflex would take over before he could get close to his edge. He was a mess, tears falling down his face as he blinked them out of his eyes, his lashes spiky from the wetness. Drool covered his chin and a good deal of your hand, and his pants were becoming damp with precome. You ran a hand along his back, soothing him as he shakily drew breath.

"It’s alright, little wolf, you’re almost there. Doing so good."

The praise is the last push he needed. Lambert swallowed three of your fingers and thrusts against your thigh in desperation. He retches around your fingers, the tight flutter of his throat working as he tries to breathe. You can’t help yourself, the comforting hand on his back wraps around Lambert, holding him to you and pressing his cock flush against yours. Your fingers brush the back of his throat, making you moan and the witcher seize up with panic. Lambert thrashes, trying to get away but it just causes more friction on his cock, in his throat. He comes, shaking violently as he shoots into his ruined braies.

You release him from your grip and he drops to the floor. He has no time to enjoy the afterglow, his neck straining and his back arching as he vomits all his ale onto the floor. It comes out of him in a rush, though he still dry heaves and trembles from the exertion. He’s gasping, swallowing thickly as you crouch over him, but still eases when you run a hand through his hair. Truly, this boy is starved for affection if he allows that touch after the abuse you put him through.

"Good pup, you did so good for me." Lambert sags like those words were the relief he needed, exhaustion and confusion playing over his bright-red face. The dazed look and tear tracks down his cheeks remind you of how much you ache for your own release.

"Now," you say, cheerful but firm as you undo the laces to your trousers, "isn’t it time you get what you asked for?" 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos feed the beast. I'm interested in writing more stuff like this if people are interested in reading!


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